


Expressions of Myself

by MarsFlameSniper



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Dysphoria, F/F, Genderfluid Character, Identity Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 17:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12988605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsFlameSniper/pseuds/MarsFlameSniper
Summary: Something Makoto wasn't sure she was looking for fits into place. She tries to make the other pieces of her life do the same.





	Expressions of Myself

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I've been really nervous about writing, honestly. I hope people enjoy it.

It's 2:21 on the morning of her fifteenth birthday when Makoto buys herself her first pair of boxers. Or, that's what the order history for her purchase says right before she hides it, deletes the confirmation email, and wipes her browser history for good measure.

Her hands move deliberately over the keyboard as she carefully erases all traces of what she's bought, body practically curling around her laptop, shielding it from view. Her gaze twitches towards the door of her bedroom for even the slightest hint that her father or sister are about to enter her bedroom. Though her eyes are drooping from tiredness, her nerves feel electric.

She's been thinking about this for a long time, maybe longer than she even realises. There were days she'd consider herself; the emerging shape of her body, the clothes she wore, the style of her hair, she'd look at herself and wonder who the figure watching back was. Other days, the discomfort was barely there. She'd button her blouse and skirt for school and feel at peace with who she saw, but then days would inevitably roll around where she'd slide black tights along her calves and the newly developing curve of her thighs and immediately want to rip them off again.

Sometimes she wants to tear off the skin and muscle underneath too, and discover whatever person really lies within her flawed form.

A girl at school had inadvertently given her the idea. Boy's underwear was something she'd considered trying before, on the days where her clothes seem to hug her chest and legs a little too closely. They feel like a step to something more, but she's never known how to approach getting them. She's past the age where she feels comfortable bringing this kind of thing up with her father, and she doubts Sae would understand. Her sister has always seemed so confident in herself.

But then she'd heard it.

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, she'd been gathering up her supplies and sorting through her worksheets at the end of a long school day when several girls from another class had entered their homeroom to catch up with a friend. They'd begun to discuss makeup, and one of them had said something loud enough to hear, loud enough to immediately make Makoto's brain tick into action.

“God, I'm so glad shopping sites give you the option to hide your order history now. My parents would have a fit if they saw how much I'd spent on this lipstick.”

She'd never run so fast to catch the train home in all her life.

Her laptop had been out of power when she'd arrived, breathless and restless, and she'd had to wait an agonizingly long time for it to charge. Then her father had called her for dinner, and much as she’d wanted to, she could hardly ignore that.

The entire meal was spent with her mind drifting back to her bedroom. Her chopsticks clattering together in agitation as the food was brought to the table and as soon as a bowl of rice was set before her, she'd begun to shovel food into her mouth so quickly that she'd very nearly choked. Sae had shot her suspicious looks as she gulped down her tea while her father laughed.

“Excited for tomorrow already Makoto? It's hours away yet.”

In honesty, she'd forgotten her birthday was the next day in the face of what she'd planned to do, but it had been better to let them both think she was just succumbing to childish excitement rather than what she’d really had on her mind. She'd excused herself from the table not long after, darting back to her room and slamming the door more forcefully than she'd intended.

Then the hesitation had hit. The sight of her computer, sitting on her desk waiting to be used had suddenly seemed so terrifying. Was it really safe for her to be doing this at home? What if Sae needed to borrow her laptop and saw what she'd done? Or what if she bought underwear and her father accidentally opened the package?

Her knees had begun to tremble and she’d sat heavily on the bed, torn between her fears and her longing. Eventually, her agitation had won out and she'd booted up the internet browser and begun to search.

There had been so many styles she had barely known where to look. Briefs, boxers, trunks...she’d settled for whatever had the loosest fit and a reasonable price and when the option to purchase had come up, she hadn't given herself time to hesitate, clicking the button  while her heart hammered in her ears.

Now all she can do is wait and see.

Waiting consists of three days on edge. Her birthday passes by in a whirl, and while she certainly enjoys the day with her family her purchase is always at the back of her mind. She gets up early to wait for the morning post, ignoring the way her father smiles at her, perched on the edge of the couch with her eyes fixed intently on the door.

She's jumpy at school, impatient for lessons to be over so she can see if her order has arrived during the day. By her second day of waiting, her teachers are giving her concerned looks when they think she doesn’t notice. They frown at the beat of her pencil atop her desk no matter what lesson she’s in and fret as her gaze drifts out of the window back towards where home lies. Perhaps she should share their concern for her grades, but she just can’t when she feels as though she’s on the edge of something revolutionary.

It's the third day after she places her order when her father's greeting changes a little once she and Sae return home.

“Good evening girls,” he says, kissing them both on the cheek, “how was school? Makoto, a parcel came for you today, it's in your room.”

Her shoes are barely off her feet before she's scrambling through the house. The package is on her bed and she zeroes in on it instantly. She pulls apart the plastic and a neat pack of three boxer shorts falls onto her duvet. All she can do us stare at first, before she reaches out to pick them up.

She pulls off the cardboard holder carefully and pulls one of the shorts free. They're red. They seem...ill made, in all honesty, now she's seeing them up close. The other two pairs are blue and white checked patterns and all of them have visible loose threads, one of them is even missing a button.

Silently, she begins to roll down her tights, pushing them down past her ankles with her feet as she takes off the underwear she'd worn that day and steps into the shorts. Once they're settled on her waist, she moves her legs experimentally, marvelling at the odd sensation of freedom around her hips. Annoyingly, one of the legs feels tighter than the other at the cuff, but despite that, a peculiar feeling settles over her.

It's beyond comfort, beyond contentedness, she feels more _herself_ somehow, even if it makes little sense to her. She hums lightly and carries on changing out of her uniform. A pair of black jeans are chosen along with a white roll necked jumper and she chuckles at the way the material of the boxers bunches up as she pulls up her trousers. It seemed she had a few things to get used to if she wanted to wear these.

Finally, once she's presentable, she heads back out to join her family. Sae looks up at her from a textbook she’s studying as she enters the living room, eyebrow quirking at her now calm demeanour.

“What came over you?” she asks, looking Makoto up and down. “I thought you were going to pull a muscle you ran through here so fast.”

Makoto smiles, settling down next to Sae.

“It was nothing sis. Just something I needed to check.”

 

* * *

 

It's not the second time, or even the third that Makoto has bought boxers. But today is the first time she's ventured into the underground mall to do so.

She can't say if it's bravery or stupidity that’s brought on the trip. A little of both maybe? Though she could definitely make a case for stupidity now that she's here.

There's a small men's clothing store near the back of the underground, and she's been loitering in the music store across from it for nearly ten minutes now, fingers flipping through CD after CD as her eyes dart towards the windows and back down again.

No one's watching her. Objectively, she's sure of this. Both stores are near enough devoid of customers. Even if it were the opposite though, she knows no one would be paying attention to a third year student loitering around.

Logic flies in the face of her own paranoia though, and every time she works up the nerve to venture out and towards her destination, someone enters or exits, sending her scurrying back to the window where she waits for her nerves to calm and her courage to return.

She's grateful the girl at the counter seems to be asleep, as the way she's bounced back and forth through the store would certainly be earning her some strange looks otherwise.

After a few more minutes of this, she grits her teeth, shaking her head at her own foolishness. Wasn't she supposed to be more true to herself now? Everything that had happened with Akira and his friends...no, her friends, she didn't want that to just be a fluke. She won't let it be one. Raising a glare of steel at the clothing store, she makes up her mind, finally taking her leave of the music shop, she walks across the way and enters the clothing store.

Once inside, the silence takes her by surprise, and she feels bizarrely exposed as the door swings shut behind her, the confident fury that had brought her here now wrestling viciously with her flight instincts. Thankfully, no one seems to be nearby, and she walks down the closest aisle.

Her father had taught her a trick once, for walking through busy cities with ease. Put your head up, keep your eyes straight ahead and let your expression tell others that you know exactly where you're going. She schools herself into the trick now, marching forwards in search of an underwear section. A minute of searching finds a small rack hung to the wall, and Makoto lets herself be drawn towards it. She'd just been intending to grab the closest pack of three and go, but the selection of colours on offer stops her.

It's an odd sort of vanity, she thinks, as she scans the display more closely. She's drawn to a pack of green boxers, but there's also a set of wine coloured ones that catch her eye too. Why she cares, she's not sure. It's not like she'd ever show these to anyone, and they were hardly the kind of things to match to an outfit. But she wants them all the same. Making up her mind to be just a little vain, she reaches for both, and as the first pack is taken, a hand appears in her peripheral vision.

She freezes.

The hand appears again, unhooking a set of white briefs to her left and she turns her head slightly. A man is stood next to her, his sparse hair is neatly combed over his head and he's wearing a navy business suit. The wrinkles around his eyes accentuate the tired expression on his face as he regards his choices. He looks old enough to be her father.

It's as if all the determination she'd built up to get to this point has evaporated in the face of this man. Her heart begins to thud loudly in her chest and a spiral of thoughts fly through her brain.

_Calm down. It's fine. He hasn't looked at you, he doesn't know you. Doesn’t know you're buying these for yourself. If he says anything you can just say you're buying them for your boyfriend. People do that right? Right. Yes. You're buying them for your boyfriend. Which is a totally normal thing._

She doesn't realise she's been staring until the man glances up at her, at which she flinches so badly that the metal rack shudders loudly as she reaches for the second pack.

Smiling lamely, she hurries back the way she came, the underwear held close to her chest and the word ‘boyfriend’ still hammering away in her brain. She turns down the aisle for the counter and startles at the sight of two men walking up towards her. Ducking down into a knitwear section she waits for them to pass, holding her breath as she does.

Her hand is resting on a sleeve, and she pulls it up towards her, the facade of examining a jumper a perfect cover to calm her spooked nerves. She waits a little longer for the men's voices to fade, and in doing so she looks at what she's been holding a little more closely.

It's a black jumper, round crew neck with white fairisle bands around the upper arms. The longer she looks at it, the more it grows on her, and before she knows what she's doing, she's unhooked it from the rail and is holding it up to her torso. She can already tell the sleeves will be a little long on her, and baggy too, but somehow that doesn't seem to matter. She wants this. Needs it maybe.

The jumper is bundled over her arms before any second thoughts can kick in, wrapped over the packs of underwear as she heads over to pay. The man behind the counter smiles at her and asks her if she wants to keep the hanger. She nods, barely trusting herself to speak and soon her purchases are folded into a smart paper bag, which she takes with a weak word of thanks.

Air seems easier to breathe once she leaves the store. Once the door closes behind her she lets out a small laugh. She'd done it! And not only had she bought what she'd set out to buy, she'd gotten a few things extra too! Maybe she could do this after all. Whatever _this_ was. She still doesn't really know much beyond how much a simple change of clothes can feel like the most important thing in the world some days.

With a smaller, warmer smile, she sets off for home, turning the corner to take her out of the mall-

“Oh!”

Backpeddling as another body turns the corner just as she does, her vision is filled with blonde hair for a moment before a hand reaches out to steady her.

“Makoto!”

It's Ann. The panic she'd felt at the underwear rack comes back tenfold as her new friend recognises her, an easy smile gracing her face. Makoto tries to hide the bag behind her legs. It's a futile effort.

“Wow, fancy running into you here Makoto, you don't come here often right?”

“Uhh...” Great. Just great. Ann's head tilts and Makoto feels like the world's biggest idiot, though the bag in her hands is only half of her befuddlement around Ann.

Since becoming friends, Makoto had rapidly noticed herself...noticing Ann. It had confused her at first, as she'd never felt an inclination towards girls before. But Ann had a certain way of turning both her head and her knees to jelly that wasn't at all unpleasant. They'd even shared crepes together, which was one of Makoto's new fondest memories, even if she was sure she'd spent most of the outing staring like a fool at the other girl.

Much like she was doing now, in fact.

“Ah...I was just um,” she babbles, feeling her face heat up, “doing a little shopping.”

“I can see that,” Ann gestures to the bag, frowning once she notices the store's name. “Men's stuff? Are you buying something for a boyfriend? You've never mentioned-“

“No!” she blurts out, barely registering that she'd thrown her best excuse for what she was doing out of the window.

“I-I mean,” now she's starting to panic, looking at Ann's wide eyes and feeling all the explanation she could possibly give melt away in her mouth under the other girl's stare. Her voice drops off and she prays the ground will take pity and just swallow her up now.

To her surprise, Ann chuckles.

“It's okay,” she says, “you don't have to tell me. It's your business right? You don't have to say anything until you're ready.”

Even if she wanted to speak, she can't. Did Ann maybe, understand? Even if she didn't know, could she tell that Makoto sometimes felt ill-at-ease in her own skin? Perhaps she could. Ann knew better than most about secret burdens after all.

In lieu of an answer, Makoto nods gratefully, letting the bag hang by her side. Ann seems to take this as a good sign.

“I've got a little shopping of my own to do, but I'll see you at school tomorrow, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, she carries on past Makoto, who can't help but linger for a moment to watch her walk away. She blinks when Ann stops and turns back around, regarding her for a second.

She hurries back over, and before she knows what's happening, Ann is leaning over and whispering into her ear.

“You know, I'm kinda glad you're not shopping for a boyfriend.”

And with a wink, she continues on her way.

Makoto tries on the jumper once she's back home.  The sleeves slide over her knuckles and the shoulders sit over her own awkwardly.

But doesn't hug her figure. Or accentuate her breasts. It's not sheer. It’s not lacy. It's dark and it's casual and she likes the way it doesn't make her waist look.

She absolutely loves it.

 

* * *

 

Ann gets it much later on, though not in the way either of them really planned for.

It had been about a month after they'd bumped into each other at the mall that Ann had asked her on a second crepe date. She'd agreed enthusiastically and had had a wonderful time. She certainly hadn't been expecting the kiss Ann had pressed to her lips as they'd walked back home, but that didn't mean she hadn't responded back just as eagerly. Less words had definitely been exchanged than almost every romance movie she'd seen had led her to believe would be with a first love, but that had been better somehow. Ann had a way of knowing things without them needing to be said and they'd become girlfriends soon after.

Makoto's still experimenting with her clothing choices, trying to find a happy medium between her feelings and her presentation in front of her peers. She's always thankful for the compliments Ann pays her, even when she knows her choices don't always look as good as she'd like them to. But lately her ‘off-colour' days had led her to a greater sense of agitation than normal, something that not even dressing more in tune with how she feels can wipe away completely.

Today is one such day, but as it's also a school day, there's only so much she can do. On a whim she leaves off the leggings she usually pairs with her summer uniform, settling instead for longer socks and sliding on a pair of her boxers. It's not ideal by any means, but she'll make do.

Several times on her journey to school, the impulse jumps though her to turn back for home and to change, but she pushes it down. It's frustrating, feeling so restless for so many different reasons when all she wants is to feel the same way outside as she does inside. Ann meets her halfway and her presence helps to ease her mind somewhat.

The rest of the day passes much the same. She's tense, rattled, unsure. She feels both exposed and trapped, like she's being pulled in half and stuck back together again repeatedly. It doesn't escape any of her friends notice, and by the time the final chime for the day echoes through the school, she feels as though she's told people ‘I'm fine' enough times for a lifetime.

She's escaped to the girl's bathrooms for a chance to think, and leaning over the sinks now, staring into the mirror, she feels like she no longer recognises the person on the other side.

“Who are you?” She whispers.

The door flies open and she steps back instinctively, shoulders loosening when she sees that it's only Ann. The other girl looks relieved.

“Finally found you,” she steps up to where Makoto is stood, glancing across at the mirror.

“You okay babe?”

Makoto ducks her head, mumbling noncommittal words. Ann takes her shoulders and bobs down slightly, forcing her eyes to follow.

“You've been stressed today, I can tell. Is there something on your mind?”

“Sort of,” she replies after a moment, feeling guilty at the worry in Ann's eyes.

“I don't really know how to explain it though.”

Smiling sympathetically, Ann kisses her on the cheek.

“You've been bothered by this all day, so of course you can't. You need to come at it with a fresh head. You want me to take your mind off it for a little while?”

It's clear what she's asking and any other day she'd strongly object to fooling around in the school's bathrooms, but Ann clicks the lock on the door before she can respond, and she just wants to stop feeling so displaced. She lets herself be taken by the shoulders, pushed until her back hits a stall, her blouse is unbuttoned, and Ann's lips are everywhere at once.

The kisses begin at her neck, paired with nips and licks that make her hum each time. She can feel the fullness of the smile Ann's wearing with each pass of her lips over skin, and Makoto starts to fumble with her uniform as she journeys downwards. Her own hands seek out all of Ann that she can find, pushing under her shirt and dragging her nails down her ribcage, which draws soft sighs from the other girl.

“Ann...” she whispers, feeling lips pressing even lower. She has to hold back a growl when Ann seems to skip her chest entirely and heads straight for her stomach, but the feeling soon passes once Ann presses one last kiss just below her bellybutton and then kneels down. She locks eyes with her, her intent clear.

Without thinking, Makoto brings a hand to Ann's head, swallowing slightly. A short nod is all she can manage, but it's enough for Ann's smile to turn indulgent.

“Just relax,” she says, shuffling closer as her hands begin a sensual crawl up Makoto's thighs.

“Don't think about anything but this.”

Her head tips back, banging against the stall door. A breeze passes over her legs as she feels her skirt being lifted.

“Oh?”

The sensations stop, and Makoto risks a glance down to see why Ann has paused.

It only takes a second for the heat that had been pulsing through her since Ann's first touch to turn to ice. She's glancing up at her, eyes quizzical as she regards the boxers underneath Makoto's uniform skirt. There's an air of uncertainty permeating the atmosphere betweenthem and she barely realises she's tensed up. Waiting for Ann to laugh, or move away, or for her expression to turn to one of shame.

“Babe?”

She can't answer. Her heart feels as though it's sinking through her.

“Makoto.” Ann clicks her fingers together, and it, and the suddenly serious expression on her face is enough to help her resurface from where her worries have dragged her.

“Please calm down.” She says, “we can talk about this more later, if you want. Is this part of what's been worrying you today?”

A nod.

“They don't bother me, if that's what you're thinking. And it's a nice shade of green too. Are you okay with me taking these off?”

She pauses for a second, then nods again and Ann wastes no time, placing her palms below the waistband and sliding them down almost reverently until they're pooled around her ankles, her gaze never leaving Makoto's own.

The worries are still there, brimming beneath the surface of her, but then Ann leans forward, and her mouth begins to do things that wipe all rational thought from Makoto's mind.

 

* * *

 

They head up to the rooftop, afterwards, and Makoto has never been so thankful for the end of a school day. There's no doubt in her mind that if anyone saw her now they'd take one look at her rumpled clothes and flushed face, and know instantly what she and Ann had done together.

The cool breeze feels nice on her hot skin. Ann sits herself down at the cluster of broken desks, perching on one of the tables while Makoto takes the chair and leans against her legs. Together they watch the skyline, the city washed in orange down below.

“I bought them the day you bumped into me, in the underground mall.”

Ann's fingers wind their way through her hair, teasing at the ends and tugging gently.

“Those are actually the first ones I bought that fit me properly; all the others I bought were never the right size.”

There's more tugging, and she can feel her hair being grouped and twisted into a very small braid.

“When I wear these...they help me feel more like myself some days. If that makes sense.”

Ann makes a small sound, prompting her to continue. She takes a deep breath, focusing on the way her hair is being methodically styled rather than the way her leg has begun to bounce up and down.

“Sometimes I don't know who I am. Like, the shape of my body or the clothes I wear, it's like they belong to another person. Someone who enjoys having curves and clothes that show them off...and sometimes I do. Sometimes it's completely fine and I'm happy with myself, but for the days I'm not, I wear these.”

“And today is one of those days?”

She murmurs a yes, feeling the short braid Ann has pulled together drop from her fingers, the hair unravelling back to normal.

“It didn't really help though. I just felt worse, exposed almost. When you saw them...”

“I meant what I said the first time, they're a nice green. They compliment your the colour of your hair.”

Makoto tilts her head back, raising an eyebrow at Ann, who ignores her stare and begins to re-braid her hair.

“I don't have much advice I can give you beyond my telling you that you're not alone. People at this school believe what they want to believe about people. Look at Akira and me: they labelled us as a thug and a slut, but that's not who we are. Maybe if you start dressing or acting differently, they'll do the same for you, but that won't be who you are either.”

“I know,” she sighs, “it's just that some days I don't know who I am well enough to even start knowing how to act.”

“Then take it one day at a time. I'll help as much as I can with anything you need to feel comfortable.”

She tips her head back fully, settling onto Ann's knees and looking up into the clouded sky.

“I bought a jumper that day too, a black one. I wear it at home sometimes.”

“Do you want to go and get it? You could bring it over to my place and wear it while we study.”

Ann smiles down at her as the sky stretches on forever before her eyes.

“Yes please.”

 

* * *

 

 The chirping of his phone wakes Makoto, and though today is not a special day by any means, he feels a thrill of happiness at the sound, stretching his legs out under the duvet. He listens to it ring a little longer, a lazy smile on his face before picking it up and answering the call.

“Hey...”

“Morning babe,” Ann whispers back, “how are you feeling this morning?”

Since their conversation on the rooftop, Ann had been doing everything she could to help Makoto. She’d encouraged his experimentation with pronouns and ways of expressing himself, and she’d been more than happy to help pick out some more clothes when the need arose. Her morning phone calls were another one of these things.

“I think it's a Mako day today, please.”

There's mumbling from the other end of the call and he has to hold in his laughter. He kept much stricter hours than Ann, and earlier mornings than she was used to. But Ann had still never missed a single call.

“Are you gonna wear those jeans you bought?”

Makoto nods, and then answers in the affirmative once he remembers Ann can't see him. He'd been looking forward to trying them on, they were rather loose and hid the shape of his hips perfectly. Shujin's uniform was one thing he certainly didn't miss now that he'd graduated, being able to wear whatever made him comfortable was something he'd never take for granted again.

There's a soft snore from the phone, and he chuckles as Ann dozes back off. They're meeting up later, and he has to get ready first. To shower and change and try to wake Ann back up. There's a cologne he'd purchased on the same day as the jeans he's also been wanting to try, especially as he'd kept it a secret from Ann as a surprise. It had cost a little more than he was comfortable with, but there was something about the complexity of the scents, bergamot and lavender, the feeling of it misting over him and settling onto his skin, that had wiped some of the heaviness from his mind on the day he’d tried it.

Some days he still looks at his body, never knowing what he'll find, who he'll discover staring back in unease from behind the mirror, but today feels like a good day.


End file.
